Love Like Never Before
by minachandler
Summary: Set at the end of 3x23. After her night with Nyssa, Laurel finds herself walking through the steam of her shower and straight into Nyssa's arms. Black Assassin smut.


The sound of the shower running jerks Laurel abruptly out of her sleep. She squints, her hand going up automatically to shield her eyes from the brilliant ray of sunlight that streams through the open window. (She must have forgotten to shut her curtains last night – although, she supposes, she was rather preoccupied at the time.)

It takes a few moments for her vision to adjust (she's still a bit sleepy, but her slumber was less fitful than usual, to her relief), and when it does, Laurel looks around more closely. The clock reads six-thirty a.m. She takes in her Black Canary gear strewn across the floor, her bra hanging on the end of one of her bedposts, and – Laurel can't help but smile as she leans over her side of the bed – Nyssa's panties caught on the chest of drawers.

She lies back against her pillows, contentment washing over her in a way that she hasn't felt in what feels like years. Beside her, she can still see the dent in the pillow Nyssa slept on, and the scent of their mingled sweat still lingers in the air, faint but kind of reassuring. Like the sound of the shower running, there's something comforting about the knowledge that after spending the night with someone – for once – she hasn't woken up alone the morning after.

Laurel stretches out her legs, yawning, trying as she wiggles her toes to shake out the ache that has developed in her limbs. (The last couple of days have taken their toll on her body – not just her night with Nyssa but the amount she has fought both in Nanda Parbat and Starling.) But even though her body is exhausted, her mind has never felt clearer. She's forgotten how liberating it feels to actually tell someone she loves them and hear them say it back, repeatedly, in between kisses, and (in Nyssa's case) in another language altogether.

Getting up, Laurel reaches for her dressing gown, pulling it around her and making her way to her bathroom. The door is open a fraction, steam pouring out, and for the first time, Laurel hesitates. In spite of everything that has happened, there is still part of her that is nervous – but after a moment in which she takes a deep breath, Laurel pushes the door open.

Immediately, she shivers at the sudden moist coldness of the linoleum beneath her bare feet, and at the same time her heart leaps when Nyssa pulls back the shower curtain. The steam is mostly obscuring her body, however, and Laurel can only just make out Nyssa's face.

"Hey," Laurel finally says after what feels like a lifetime of just gazing at each other.

"Good morning," Nyssa replies softly. Encouraged, Laurel takes a step forward, so she can feel the rapid spray of water flick against her bare legs.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to walk in on you..." Laurel begins to say, but to her relief, Nyssa smiles, and Laurel breathes a little easier.

"I am not complaining, jameelah," Nyssa replies.

Silence falls again, broken only by the sound of water hitting Nyssa's back. "Do you mind if I..." Laurel begins to ask, but again, she hesitates. To her surprise, though, Nyssa steps forward, closing the gap between them and greeting her properly with a kiss. Momentarily, Laurel is caught off-guard, unused to the unexpected gesture, but then she kisses her back, pulling Nyssa closer until her body is flush against Laurel's. Nyssa's skin is warm, damp. The still-running spray of water that continues to fall over Nyssa's bare shoulders and over her breasts ends up drenching the front of Laurel's dressing gown – but Laurel's too distracted by way the taut muscles of Nyssa's abdomen press against her breasts to care.

"You were saying?" Nyssa asks, moving away ever so slightly but with her wet hand snaking under Laurel's hair to grip the back of her neck.

Once she has her breath back, it's easier for Laurel to speak. "Do you mind if I join you?" Laurel asks. Instead of answering, Nyssa looks right into Laurel's eyes in askance as she makes to undo the tie of her gown. A smile spreads on Laurel's lips and a searing heat begins to rise in her belly; her fingers tangle with Nyssa's and they make quick work of untying her dressing gown.

And even before the garment falls to the floor and pools at Laurel's feet, there is something about the way Nyssa's gaze drags all the way down Laurel's body and then slowly, painstakingly, moving back up until – finally – it's too much for Laurel, who reaches up to kiss her with one sleeve still stuck at her wrist. Nyssa smiles into Laurel's mouth, tugging at her sleeve and pulling it off completely.

Then Nyssa's warm palms slide down Laurel's waist, past the soft curves of her hips and stopping to grip the backs of Laurel's thighs. Still with her lips on Laurel's, and with strength that surprises even Laurel, Nyssa lifts Laurel a couple inches off the floor and into the shower with her. Laurel doesn't break the kiss, just lets Nyssa push her against the shower wall while with one hand she also shuts the shower curtain, enclosing them both in the steam.

Almost involuntarily, Laurel shivers once more, the condensation of the wall against her back sending chills up her spine. But she has a feeling that the goosebumps that erupt on her arms and her thighs have nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with what Nyssa is doing with her tongue. And there's something about the sight of Nyssa, eyes still hooded with sleep, her teeth lightly grazing her lip as she sighs contentedly, that makes Laurel's breath catch in her throat.

She's surprised, therefore, how steady her voice is when she speaks. "Turn around."

Nyssa lifts one eyebrow in faint question, but Laurel doesn't say anything, just waits for her to comply. After a moment, Nyssa does just that, turning so her back is to Laurel. It's then that the faded criss-cross of scars on Nyssa's back are thrown into sharp relief – long lines that stretch from one shoulder blade all the way to the other and a couple of bullet wounds just above her left hip. They're barely visible, only really apparent if Laurel looks closely enough (which admittedly she has done on several occasions, even before last night).

Still, that doesn't stop Laurel leaning down, her hand on Nyssa's hip, and kissing a spot on her lower back. There's a bruise there, probably acquired from when they were taking down an assassin from the League the night before. Laurel lets her lips linger, tongue flicking against tender skin, while with her free hand she picks up the wet wash cloth from the floor. Barely audible above the sound of the shower is Nyssa's soft pant at the touch of Laurel's mouth, which turns into a moan of disappointment when Laurel stands up once more.

Laurel just chuckles quietly, though, as she slowly, gently, lifts the wash cloth to Nyssa's back, scrubbing her skin. At first, Laurel can feel Nyssa's muscles tense beneath her hand, the one that is resting on her shoulder, steadying them both, but it only takes a moment for Nyssa to relax into her touch.

Nyssa's words moments later are therefore unexpected. "Something is on your mind."

It's not a question. "Yeah," Laurel answers, busying herself in moving Nyssa's damp hair over one shoulder so she can rub the wash cloth on the back of her neck. There's silence for a moment as Laurel hesitates; then she says, "Honestly? I... for the last couple of years, I've been waking up alone. And I wondered if this morning was going to be any different – if you were still going to be here when I woke up, if maybe you thought you and me – together – was a mistake, if –" Laurel falters, unable to complete her sentence.

At this, and as Laurel realises her hand (still holding the wash cloth) has stilled on Nyssa's bare shoulder, Nyssa turns back around. When their eyes meet, it's impossible for Laurel to look away; only when Nyssa places her hand on Laurel's arm does Laurel calm a little, closing her eyes at Nyssa's touch.

"Laurel," Nyssa says softly, "I stayed. For you."

Laurel can't help but smile. "I'm glad you did."

"That would make two of us."

And this time, there's something different about their kiss (and not just because Laurel nearly trips when she tiptoes to meet Nyssa's lips with her own). Laurel tastes promise and faint laughter and love on Nyssa's tongue, and Laurel's fingers twine with Nyssa's just as Nyssa's other hand moves down to cradle Laurel's breast. Laurel pushes at Nyssa's shoulders until Nyssa's back is pressed against the shower wall, Laurel's foot nudging Nyssa's knees apart so she can move closer, right between Nyssa's legs.

Nyssa's lips move down, her teeth grazing Laurel's collarbone before her mouth closes around Laurel's breast, making her gasp. Her tongue darts out, going in slow circles around her breast until Nyssa catches Laurel's stiffened nipple between her lips. Laurel groans, arching forward and throwing her head back so her hair goes flying and immediately becomes wet from the hot stream of water still pouring just behind her.

Nyssa doesn't stop, though – if anything, she sucks down harder, teasing Laurel's nipple with her teeth so Laurel is crying out, and with that cry comes a hot rush of arousal that settles firmly, achingly, in her groin. She steps back just a little from Nyssa, squeezing her legs together, attempting to stave off the wet heat she can feel pooling between her thighs.

But then Nyssa releases Laurel's breast, lips going back up Laurel's neck and up the side of her jaw, and the fire that has erupted in her heart whittles down a little, to a gentler throb that doesn't feel quite as agonising unsatiated.

"Did I mention that you are really good at –" Laurel starts to say, but she breaks off when Nyssa pulls her by the waist and turns her so Laurel's back is against the shower wall now.

"Part your legs," Nyssa whispers. Laurel can't stop herself from smiling – Nyssa's given her orders plenty of times before, but this is the first time it hasn't involved hand-to-hand combat. Still, Laurel obeys, like she always has done, standing with her feet a little further apart. "A little more."

Of course, Laurel complies, but she's more than a little surprised when Nyssa kneels down in front of her, hooking her arm around one of Laurel's knees while kissing her inner thigh.

"Nyssa..." Laurel says. Nyssa looks up, smiles, and the words _you don't have to_ die on Laurel's lips. Laurel shakes her head, closing her eyes, leaning against the wall, and Nyssa's still exploring. Her mouth covering the skin at the top of Laurel's thigh just where leg meets groin, her tongue sets moist skin – dampened by the slight leakage from her wet centre – aflame, causing the ache in her to suddenly multiply tenfold.

"Nyssa,' Laurel whispers again, and this time it's a prayer, a plea for Nyssa to hasten in her languid exploration of her flesh so Laurel can be granted some kind of release. She can't stop herself shuddering when Nyssa's breath ghosts warmly up her thigh and into her centre – Laurel bites her lip, trying and failing to muffle her whimper. And then, without warning, Nyssa's tongue slips inside her. Her arm is still wrapped around Laurel's leg, keeping her in place. Laurel's hand goes to tangle in Nyssa's hair, needing something to hold onto as Nyssa's tongue encircles her clitoris and makes her thrust forward involuntarily into Nyssa's mouth.

"God, Nyssa – yes, like that –" The words come out barely coherent, breaths leaving her throat getting shorter and shorter, and Laurel's glad Nyssa's got such a strong grip on her leg given the rate at which her knees are weakening. "I love you," Laurel murmurs, so quietly that she wonders if Nyssa can hear. A second later, though, Laurel's hips rock forward automatically at the hot hum of Nyssa's open mouth where it is buried into her centre, and she angles herself forward a bit, so she can feel the wonderful rough scrape of Nyssa's tongue against her walls.

When Laurel comes, it's with a cry that she can feel from deep in her throat as she reaches a high she didn't think she would ever feel again in her life. Nyssa hasn't moved from where she is kneeling between Laurel's legs, though – she is still lapping up the last remnants of Laurel's pleasure with her tongue, not stopping until the Laurel's hips stop trembling. And then, much to Nyssa's amusement, Laurel's legs gently give way beneath her so her back slides down the wall and she is joining Nyssa on the shower floor.

"Fuck, you are way too good at that," Laurel says breathlessly.

"Language," Nyssa chides gently, but her tone is teasing, playful, making Laurel smile. Nyssa doesn't immediately meet her eyes, though – she leans forward, pressing her face against Laurel's collarbone.

"I'm a lawyer," Laurel says. "I've heard far worse." It's only now really that Laurel's breathing slows down a little, and she lets out a little chuckle when she realises Nyssa's nose is cold and wet with her own essence. And Laurel's not quite sure why but she lifts Nyssa's face up to hers and kisses her slowly on her lips.

It starts out chaste, almost, with just a tiny hint of hesitancy still lingering (not to mention Laurel having to adjust to her own taste), but then Laurel's arms wind around Nyssa's neck and there's something about their kiss that re-energises Laurel, makes her haul herself to her feet. As she does so, she reaches for Nyssa, who obliges, getting up too. Laurel takes a step forward, making Nyssa do the same so the water from the shower falls directly on her hair once more. She's watching Laurel expectantly and with something that looks like hunger in her eyes.

Tiptoeing a little so they're the same height, Laurel kisses Nyssa once more, one hand moving down her hip and across to cup the inside of her thigh. Nyssa sighs into Laurel's mouth, and Laurel can feel the muscles of Nyssa's abdomen tense against her arm with the movement. Laurel's hand moves further down still, until her palm is flat against Nyssa's entrance.

Slowly, tentatively, while her tongue flicks across Nyssa's lower lip, Laurel slips a finger inside Nyssa, which immediately becomes coated with wetness dripping from her centre. Laurel moans at the same time as Nyssa, for already the tortuous ache in her groin is back. There's something about the effect her own touch has on Nyssa that seriously turns her on – and Laurel finds herself so lost in that that she doesn't realise she's thinking out loud.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" Nyssa says as she pulls away, breathing heavily but with the beginnings of a smile on her lips and in her eyes.

Laurel's taken aback for a moment and then she laughs, pushing her finger a little further in and making Nyssa squirm pleasurably. "You weren't supposed to hear that."

Nyssa opens her mouth to retort but she ends up gasping instead as Laurel adds a second finger. She's more comfortable now, less nervous, and she feels herself becoming wetter with arousal when Nyssa's walls clamp down around her two fingers, while their lips crush together in a searing kiss. Laurel kisses her back, not caring that Nyssa's kisses are becoming increasingly messier (if anything, as Laurel discovered last night, nothing brings her more pleasure than seeing Nyssa al Ghul completely lose any semblance of control – at Laurel's hand, no less).

And it's as Nyssa rapidly ascends to her climax that Laurel shifts a little, withdrawing her hand and lifting one leg to climb over Nyssa's right knee so Laurel has one leg on either side of her thigh. Nyssa gasps at the movement, and when she does, Laurel's thighs tighten around Nyssa's; the friction it creates at least partially satisfies Laurel, enough for her vision to clear and for her to look Nyssa in the eyes as she reaches the peak of her orgasm.

(Nyssa's quieter than Laurel, by far – another thing Laurel learned last night. Nyssa told her it's a League thing, which doesn't surprise Laurel but does make her wonder if what she is doing is enough.)

But when Laurel sees Nyssa's irises darken and her bare shoulders tremble, one hand fisting into Laurel's wet hair, those doubts in Laurel's mind go away. Nyssa mutters something in Arabic, but Laurel only catches the last two words – "ya samaya" – before her lips cover Nyssa's and her thighs squeeze together with Nyssa's still between them.

Still kissing her, Nyssa reaches down, fingers slipping inside Laurel with ease this time. Laurel's more sensitive than before, but she's also more turned on than before, so it doesn't take long before Laurel is arching her back, nails digging into Nyssa's shoulders, and the sounds of her second orgasm are muffled by Laurel burying her face into Nyssa's neck.

Nyssa's arms wrap around Laurel's waist, keeping her upright, and she lets out a little sigh as Laurel kisses her way up Nyssa's neck, up her jaw and then her lips.

"Thank you," she breathes.

"For what?" Nyssa replies softly.

"For staying with me. For not going back to Nanda Parbat."

"Yet," Nyssa amends, and for the first time something that feels like worry settles in Laurel's gut.

Laurel shakes her head, though, not wanting to think about it. "Still. I'm glad you didn't go. I didn't want you to leave without..."

She trails off, unsure what she wants to say – without saying goodbye? Without her telling Nyssa how she felt?

To her relief, though, Nyssa silences her thoughts with a kiss. "I am too, samaya," she says simply. "And I hope you know that... however long we have together, when it is time for me to leave, I will eternally cherish every moment."

Laurel's arms go once again around her lover's neck, pulling her into a hug and burying her nose into Nyssa's wet shoulder. In unison they take a step forward, so they're both underneath the shower's spray, and as Laurel closes her eyes and bows her head, she sends up a silent prayer and hopes with all her heart that the time for Nyssa to leave never comes.


End file.
